


Principalities Serpent

by Blackrayvn



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Good at Cunnilingus (Good Omens), Aziraphale ties up Crowley, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/F, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Light BDSM, Love, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackrayvn/pseuds/Blackrayvn
Summary: Even though the love is already there, a first time for everything
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Principalities Serpent

**Author's Note:**

> This will be similar to Principality and the Serpent, but following  
> Ms. Ezra Fell and Ms. Antonia J. Crowley
> 
> Our ladies needed time in the spotlight so to speak.
> 
> Leave comments, and Kudo cookies make me oh so ever happy.
> 
> This is a short installment to set the groundwork...enjoy.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-B2IVpkcxi5dztq4dTRR3a-Q7c-8ubpS

"Give me your hands."

I scowled at Aziraphale.

"Crowley." Her voice was sharp. "I said, give me your hands."

Reluctantly I did. Aziraphale held my small wrists in the stretch of one her hand, placing them over my head, pushing me down again. I watched the pulse hammer in Aziraphale's throat as she leaned down to tie me to her headboard. Aziraphales knots weren't tight, but I had no interest in trying to get away. I lay stretched out on her bed, and she eventually— and then finally — unzipped my skirt and slid it down my legs.

Quite honestly, I hadn't expected to be naked in front of Aziraphale when I got dressed this evening for dinner at the Ritz. I'd indulged in some wishful thinking, but I didn't really think Aziraphale felt the same as me. I was wearing panties that had a black snake-shaped argyle pattern. They cut a little high up on my cheeks. Nothing special.

But she murmured, "Look at you."

I blushed and looked away. Aziraphale's hands slid up my thighs, and her fingers curled around the waistband of my panties and pulled them down.

Oh, come on. The lights were on, and Aziraphale was going to look like she fucking looked at everything else, like she could memorize it.

"Aziraphale, listen—"

"Hush," she said slightly more commanding looking up at me. "Are you going to make me gag you, Crowley?"

Heat shot through me like fireworks. I shook my head.

Maybe someday.

"Good." 

She slid my panties down over my calves, over my feet. She examined them, put them in her beige skirt pocket, then turned her attention back to me. Her palms pressed against my thighs, easing them apart.

Oh, someone. Oh, God, oh Satan, oh, Angel.

Her fingers feathered over my hips, my stomach. My muscles danced under her touch. I wanted to twist and tangle my fingers back into all thosewhite-blonde curls, it took pulling against the ties around my wrists to remember I couldn't. Whimpering, since when did I whimper, my hips rolling up to meet her hands.

Aziraphale slid her hand between my thighs again, velvet slick against the wetness she found there. My eyes fluttered shut, and I groaned. I felt like I was coming apart, and she hadn't even gotten inside me yet.

"Zira," I whispered. "Please."

"Hush, Crowley. Look at me."

I opened my eyes, saw her watching me with a hooded expression.

She knelt between my legs, her skirt tight across her deliciously thick thighs. "Don't move," she said, sliding her hands around my calves. The heat of her skin shocking, even through my thigh highs. She pushed my knees up, my feet flat on the bed. "Let me take care of what's mine."

I wanted to run, then, more than any other time, watching her face framed by that sky blue collared shirt, this intelligent, powerful Principality putting me, a demon, at the center of her universe for these few minutes — yeah, I wanted to fucking run. But those angelic blue eyes trapped me, held me in place as she leaned forward, dipping her head.

No one had done this before. I felt worshipped, not an object to be used. This angelic being worshipping a demon couldn't be alright, it felt blasphemously wonderful.

"You're shaking," she said softly. Aziraphale's hands hadn't stopped moving up my legs, over my hips, her palms tracing the curve of my waist, my ribs. "Are you okay? Do I need to slow down?"

I shook my head.

"Tell me if I do," she said. "Tell me if something changes. Any time. Okay?"  
I nodded.  
"Say the words."  
"I'm okay," I whispered. "I'll tell you if I'm not."  
She smiled. "Good girl. Thank you." 

Aziraphale's hands dragged back down my stomach, up my thighs, and she pressed my knees farther apart. The crisp air on wet skin like its own touch. She slid her knees back, lowering her chest to the mattress, curling her arms around my hips, all in one fluid motion, all grace, and power.

The first brush of her lips against mine was electric. I jerked as if I had been shocked, and her arms tightened around me. I was staring down at her, in surprise, in awe, in — I don't know, I didn't know anything right then — but looked up at me, those blue eyes almost black. Her fingers pressed into my hips, into that sensitive spot between thigh and labia, and the noise I made was only barely human.

"I love how sensitive you are." The heat of her breath might as well have been her tongue. "And how sweet you taste."

She kissed me like I was kissing her back, dragging lips and careful tongue, heat singing through me, pleasure crawling through my belly, spreading through my hips like fingers. Her nose brushed my clit, and my back arched so sharply she dug her fingers into my thighs to keep me steady. And instead of backing off, instead of letting me breathe, she turned the full attention of her mouth to it, holding tight onto me, following the movement of my hips.

Her tongue traced the contour of my cunt, her hair brushing soft against my thighs. Every muscle in my body was flexed and hard against her, pulling at my bonds, pressure ratcheted uptight, hot in my midsection. I wanted to curl up into a ball, wanted to wrap my arms and legs around her. I wanted her grip to bruise me. I wanted to come so bad I could barely think.

She uncurled one arm from around my hip, and I felt her fingers brush my ass, under her chin. Her tongue dragged up the length of my lips, fingers following the trail, pushing into me at the same time she sucked my clit into her mouth.

My cry was sharp and loud and made me acutely aware of the near-silence in the room, of the sounds she was making, the sounds I was making, but she hummed again and smiled against my cunt. And flipped her hand over, palm up, and curled her fingers.

"Shit," I breathed, "Zira, God—"

The rhythm was incessant, insistent, and I was pulling so hard at the ties on my wrists I knew I'd bruise. I needed to bruise.

She lifted her head, letting her thumb take over where her mouth had been. 

"Are you going to cum for me, Crowley?"


End file.
